Depression Hurts - You Can Help
by Singing-Wolf-12
Summary: alyxReader The Reader has been facing difficult times at home and in her own mind, when a new kid arrives at school and changes her world. Disclaimer: This story is not finished, nor do I believe it will ever be. I have found a decent stopping point, but it was originally planned for much more. Despite this, I have chosen to upload it here in case anybody may actually enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1

Wake up. Go to school. Go home. Go to bed. This was a normal day's schedule. However, today was evidently _not_ going to be normal.

I did wake up, as usual. My mother yelled at me, threatened me, to get out of bed, as usual. I refused until she came upstairs and punched me hard in the gut, as usual. At least she was smart and only beat me in places that were easily hidden – places easily kept from suspicious eyes.

It was me that made the wounds on my arms. Just a way to vent my frustrations and sadness. Feel physically, as opposed to mentally. It was easier to deal with. There was a small knife in my closet, hidden in a box full of feathers. An ironic place to put it, I suppose. Mother didn't know about it, but if she did, I doubt she would've cared.

She dragged me by my (hair length), (hair color) hair, out of my not-so-plush bed, pushed me up against the wall. Tears sprang to my (eye color) eyes, but I held them back as she whispered in my ear "Why don't you ever listen to me? Why do you make me do these things? Make me hurt you?" I knew they were lies, but she was always able to put so much sadness into her voice, seeing as how she was a great actress before she met my dad and had me. She made me guilty, every time.

My dad. He was the reason she was like this – not directly, of course. You see, he was in the Marines, deployed in Afghanistan. Some stupid terrorist just _had_ to bomb the plane that he was on - when he was on his way home for good.

Need I say more?

My mother was never the same. She drank, lost her job, started beating me – all of the cliché things a widow with a kid does. I had to start calling her "ma'am" instead of "mom". Give her the respect she "deserves". I was unhappy, to say the least. Not because of the things she did, though. I blamed myself for not being able to comfort her when it started and avoid all of these problems. I was unhappy because I was weak. I didn't have the emotional strength to do anything.

To stop her.

To call out for help.

To just end it all.

Anyways, this was a daily routine. She dropped me, muttering insults. "Get dressed," she spat and stormed out my bedroom door.

"Yes, ma'am," I held back from snapping. I slapped on the first clothes I saw, decided to skip breakfast, and headed out the door to school.

Across the street, I saw that the new house had finally been sold. There was a light blue Vespa scooter parked out front, along with a yellow Lamborghini Murciélago and a red Ferrari Barchetta. Obviously Italians. Rich ones, at that. Turning towards school, I heard a cry and caught a glimpse of reddish- brown hair racing past me, leaving a trail of dust. I glanced back and saw a man with darker hair yelling angrily and shaking his fist. I quickly wheeled around and started towards school.

I walked to school with my head down, not thinking about anything but the exhausting day ahead of me. I barely made it in the door of my homeroom class when the bell rang and the teacher told us to take our seats. Nobody heard him, or if they did he was ignored. I made my way to the back corner desk and plopped down to stare at the teacher yelling at the rest of the class.

"Alright, everybody," he said when he finally got everything under control, "We have a new student from Italy," he beckoned to the door.

As he walked into the classroom, all of the girls gasped - and I must admit, so did I. He was the same guy from earlier – an amazingly gorgeous guy, I realized now. He had on stylish European clothes: faded blue jeans, a blue checkered blazer, a grey checkered scarf and brown dress shoes, green dress shirt, unbuttoned just within school guidelines so I could see the slightest bit of his well-toned chest. He was tanned just the right shade, with the reddish-brown hair and an odd curl sticking out from his left. His eyes were closed, but it somehow looked normal. He had soft looking lips and a slight bulge - _Wait, what?!_ I asked myself, shocked. _No going there!_

I heard the teacher say my name and saw him point in my direction and suddenly the new kid was sitting next to me.

"Ciao, bella~!"

Oh, jeez. A sexy accent.

"I'm Feliciano Vargas, but you can call me Feliciano."

My mind raced to remember the little Italian I knew. _Ciao...that can mean hello or goodbye, right? Probably hello in this case…..and Bella...that's a name…?_

"Uh, my name's (first name)..." _Brilliant..._ I mentally face-palmed.

A look of confusion passed over his face. "I know. The teacher told me."

"Miss (last name)," (teacher's name) said. "I believe you can make sure Mr. Vargas is caught up in class?" I nodded.

The Italian mentioned perked up at this and shouted in excitement. "Sìììììììì~! We get to be study-buddies~!"

This was going to be interesting…..


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as I walked through the door, I was met by stinging sensation on my cheek. "Where were you? You're late!" my mother scolded, hands gripping her hips and a glare in her eyes.

"I had to talk to new kid in class about helping him..." I whimpered. "And I'm only a minute late..."

"Don't argue with me!" I realized she was drunk as she said this, slurring her speech and breathing on my face. I could smell the liquor. It made sense. She rarely ever touched any visible part of me.

 _Great. Just what I need,_ I thought. "I need to go over to his house to help him catch up."

She hesitated. "Fine," she finally spat. "But be back by 5:00," I nodded nervously and dashed back out the door and across the street.

"Okay, one more problem. Solve for _x_ ," I said, sliding the problem towards him. Feliciano really already knew everything I did, and perhaps more. He was a really fast learner, though I could be mistaken as the only things new to him were a few English terms in various subjects. It'd only been two hours and we were already finishing up reviewing for Math, which was the last class on the list.

I watched as his brows pushed together once briefly and he quickly solved the question. "Twenty-one," he said.

"Yup." I smiled briefly and started packing up. "We're done."

"Fantastico! Grazie! Thank-a you for all of your help, bella~!" he exclaimed and pulled me into a great, big bear hug. Really awkward on my part. Then he let go and his brows furrowed. "What are we going to do until you go home-a?"

"Well, I was planning on going home now," I said as I resumed packing.

His face fell, then immediately brightened again. "Wait-a! I have an idea!" he shouted, jumping up from the couch. "I can make you some _pastaaa~_!" he stuck his outspread hand in the air when he said the last word, obviously ecstatic.

I struggled to hold in my laughter at his face and sudden outburst. "Um...o-okay..."

" _Sìììììììì~_!" Feliciano rushed to the kitchen, me following slowly behind.

I lost it right then and there, falling to the floor in a fit of hysteria. He looked at me with an adorably clueless face. "Bella? What's-a wrong?" He'd already gotten ready when I walked in, all of the needed ingredients and tools out.

And he was wearing a pink, lacy, flowery apron; written on it in cursive was the words "Kiss the Cook!"

"N-n-nothing!" I said between gasps, trying to regain my composure and get up from the floor. He shrugged it off and started cooking, making a total mess in the already disaster of the kitchen. I tried to help him cook, or at least clean the place up, but he just pushed me away, telling me to relax. I went back to the living room and watched TV until he finished. When he was finally done, I was starving and totally pigged out.

He looked at me expectantly. "What did you think?"

I put a thoughtful mask on. "Well...there's just one thing..." his face fell and I grinned. "It's simply too delicious!"

It took a couple of seconds to register what I had said, and then Feliciano practically flew out of his chair and tackled me, knocking all of the air out of my lungs. _He's so adorable!_ I thought. _It's only been one day and I already consider him my best friend._

He finally released me and I realized it was 8:35. I immediately freaked out and started packing all my stuff up. _How did it get so late? Does it really take that long to make spaghetti?_

"What's wrong?" he asked for the second time that day.

"Oh, I'm just late to get home," I said, trying to stay calm. He pouted. I smiled and patted is head, not noticing when he suddenly stiffened. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay...ciao..."

I ran across the street back to my house, trying to sneak in the back door. My mother was there waiting for me, as expected, and she was clearly furious, even more than normal. I simply stood there, looking, and braced for her wrath. She got up and began to walk towards me rigidly; a glint of silver near her hand caught my eye, but before I could escape up the stairs, I felt the door at my back and the cool, sharp metal at my throat.

"You're late," she said in a dangerous whisper. I gulped ever so slightly.

Maybe she's finally lost it. Maybe it would all be over, after all the years of hell. I closed my eyes and waited for true darkness. The knife pressed deeper, breaking a bit of skin. I felt a bead of blood leak out onto the blade. I felt her breath on my ear. "I won't free you just yet. You still have to pay for what you did." Then she pulled back. "Go to your room."

I did as I was told, but as I crossed the threshold, the words came out of my mouth: "You're deranged! I wish I could just leave and never come back!"

I would probably regret that in the morning.

I awoke the next morning to my phone vibrating in my pants pocket. It was a text from Feliciano.

 _Ciao, bella! You want to come over?_

 _Hey, Feli! Sure - I'll be over in a bit!_

 _Feli?_

 _Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to insult you._

 _Nothing to apologize for! It's a cute nickname! See you soon!_

I smiled and put my phone down. I changed from my tomato-print pajamas into camouflage skinny jeans, a simple black tank top, my combat boots, and put on my dad's dog tags, then stealthily creeped out the door so my mother wouldn't catch me and leave another mark.

Running across the street to the Italian's house, I was met by a cranky-looking guy that seemed a little older than Feliciano and I. He had dark brown hair, a similar curl sticking out on his right side, and brown eyes. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a partially unbuttoned, red dress shirt with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a back vest, a black fedora with a red ribbon around it, and a loose, black necktie. He looked disapprovingly down at me. "Who are you?" he had an Italian accent, too, but it didn't sound as sweet as Feli's.

"Lovi, leave the pretty girl alone!" another teenage boy, younger than Feliciano and I, popped up behind the first. He spoke with an accent that sounded like a mix between French and Italian accent. He had olive green eyes, lighter hair and a curl protruding from the left side of his head, not as rounded as Felicaino's, but more edgy. He had on light brown jeans, a light blue un-buttoned shirt with a white tank-top underneath, and sandals. He seemed as carefree as Feli. "Ciao~! Please ignore Lovino's attitude. I'm Romeo," he said, turning to me. "What's a good-looking girl like you doing here?"

"I'm (f-first name). I'm Feliciano's friend," I stammered.

"Ciao, bella~!" I heard a graciously familiar voice from behind the two and they moved out of the way to reveal Feli. "You're here!" he hugged me in greeting, and then pulled me through the hallway to the living room again. He was wearing an outfit similar to "Lovi", but with green where the other had red and a bowtie instead of a necktie.

"Who were they?" I whispered once we were out of hearing range.

"I miei fratelli," he saw my confusion and translated. "My brothers."

"Oh? What are their names?" I asked.

"Lovino is the older one and Romeo is the younger," he answered.

"How old are they?" I wanted to know if I was right in my estimations were correct.

Feli thought for a moment then said "1,549 years and 62 years."

I was totally confused, as anybody would be. "Lovino doesn't look much older than you, though. And Romeo looks a few years younger."

"You're right. Romeo is younger than us, and I'm 1,328, only 221 years younger than Lovino."

"Oh, I get it! It's a joke!" I laughed uncertainly. He looked too serious for it to be a joke, but my mind couldn't make sense of it any other way.

"No it's not," he sounded disappointed.

"But no human can live that long - especially looking as young as you do!"

"Bella, we're not human," he seemed to decide something in that moment. "I'm the personification of Northern Italy, otherwise known as Veneziano, Lovino is-a Southern Italy, or Romano, and Romeo is Seborga, a micro-nation in Italy near fratello France."

Not getting a chance to reply, I heard an ear-splitting "chigi" screech and felt a blow to my head, blacking out.


	3. Chapter 3

I yawned, waking up with a splitting headache. _Ah. It was just a dream. A funny one, though._

Then I heard voices upstairs - male voices - and I realized I _wasn't_ in my bed at home. I was on the couch in Feliciano's house. I recognized the voices as my friend's and his brothers' and decided to listen in on them. It sounded like they were arguing, Lovino shouting in Italian - and it certainly wasn't helping my migraine.

"Please stop yelling. You'll wake her and you're scaring me," Feli sniveled in his native language. I understood what he said thanks to an app on my cell phone. "And I think we can trust her."

"I agree~!" I heard, Romeo declare. "She's cute, too~! I like her."

"Why would either of you think that?! You've only known her for a day, Veneziano, and you even less, Seborga!" Lovino shouted, obviously ignoring his twin's request. "You know what, whatever. Too late now. Maybe we can convince her it was a dream," he had quieted a lot, so, out of reflex, even though I couldn't understand their words, I leaned on the door to hear, which, just my luck, opened right then and caused me to tumble onto my butt. I stared up at the angry Italian, dumbfounded.

"You're...countries?" I asked.

"No," he snapped. "You dreamed it all up."

"Liar," I felt insulted. He talked to me as if I was a complete idiot and not as important as him.

He glared harder. I stared him down until he muttered "whatever" and stalked away.

"B-bella?" I was startled to be called. "Do...do you really believe me?"

I softened and looked at who I now knew was Northern Italy. "Yeah. It's crazy, but yeah."

Romeo, or Seborga, jumped on me for a hug. When he released me, Veneziano smiled, took my hand, and pulled me downstairs to the kitchen. "Would you like some lasagne?" he offered.

I looked at my watch. 1:00 in the afternoon. "Sure! Some more awesome food sounds great!"

The lasagne took about as much time as the pasta did the day before and was just as good. We played board games the rest of the day and it got to be 9:00. Romeo had gone to bed half an hour ago.

"Shouldn't you be getting home?" Feli asked quizzically.

"Actually, I was hoping I could maybe spend the night here?" I smiled sheepishly up at my friend.

"Sounds great, bella!" he was certainly back to normal self. _I like him better this way,_ I blushed at the thought and itched the scab from yesterday out of embarrassment. I squeaked in pain when Feli suddenly grabbed my chin. He looked sick to stomach as he turned it over to look at the skin. I had forgotten about my cut, still new and scabbing under my smudged make-up.

"...what happened?" He whispered.

I looked down, unable to answer him.

"What happened? Who did this to you? Tell me!" his voice grew louder and more forceful with each word.

"My mother," I said, shocked into submission by his reaction. I put up my arms to protect myself out of reflex and the loose long sleeves of my shirt slid down to reveal the scars there. I quickly pulled them back to my chest when Feli went silent and cowered in fear of what he would think of me

After a while, he moved and I tilted my head back up to see his expression. It had changed from one of worry and concern to one of rage, and it didn't look right on his usually carefree face. He stormed over to the land line and started dialing 911 before I ran over and hung it up. "No! Don't – please!" I begged. "I can figure this out on my own."

Feli turned towards me and his face saddened at the desperation in my voice. "Fine," he said, defeated. "But if you don't get it under control within a reasonable amount of time, I'll take matters into my own hands. Okay?"

"Thanks, Feli," I smiled in relief, then yawned, exhausted from all of the stress and confusion from that day. Before I knew it, I was lying in a plush bed, probably in the house's spare bedroom. It was much softer than I was used to and I quickly fell asleep.

I'd moved into the Italy brothers' house within the month. Seborga had been ecstatic at the prospect. Romano had been reluctant at first, until Veneziano made me show him my scars and he immediately agreed. They both helped me sneak into my old house in get the majority of my belongings back before my mother threw the rest out and burned it. I wasn't worried about her calling the police to report me missing. She didn't really care about me, plus she didn't want the authorities finding out about the abuse.

Graduation was in a week, and then it was off to college. _I wonder what college Feli's going to..._ I thought. _There's probably a special school for the countries. I wish I was one. I'd be able to stay with them..._ I flinched when a hand waved millimeters from my face, snapping me out of my stupor.

"Bella? Did you hear me?"

I looked at Feli. "I'm sorry. I kind of spaced out."

He smiled. "That's okay. I was asking where you're going after we finish school."

I slumped my shoulders. "I was actually just thinking about that, and I'm not sure. I hope I'll get into some sort of community college, but I don't know which."

The country looked at me, surprised. "But you've got all A's in Advanced Placement classes and you're in Honor Society! You could get into anywhere!"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, but I want to stay with my friends."

"Well, all of us countries are going to the same school to catch up and refresh on political and historical things. It's called World Academy W and it's in New York," he grinned.

"That sounds like something specifically for countries, though. As in, 'no humans allowed'?" I phrased the last sentence as a question.

The Northern part of Italy grinned even wider, if that was possible. "Romano, Seborga, and I think you might be a country."

"...what?" I asked in disbelief.

He began to repeat himself, a bit slower and louder assuming I couldn't understand his accent or was too tired to think. "Romano, Seborga, and I think –"

"I heard you," I interrupted him. "I just don't believe it. I mean, I was just wishing I was a country and... now I _am_?" I was astonished, to say the least.

"I know. I wouldn't have believed it, either, had my nonno – grandpa – not been Ancient Rome," Veneziano said. "Just trust me. We can tell our own kind."

Geez. One surprise after another.


	4. Chapter 4

One week later and we were throwing our caps in the air. My mother didn't show up, which relieved and disappointed me at the same time. I noticed Romano off to the side, talking with a couple of the parents. Feli had told me that every country had to spend a little amount of time in in another country as a normal person once in a while to help them to understand other countries' cultures and issues better and find other personifications.

The next day we left for New York, me happily leaving my old life behind. I looked triumphantly out of the window, watching my hometown disappear. We were able to up and go so easily because I didn't have many essential belongings and they had most of their things in their mansion in Italy, living out of a suitcase during these short courses. I glanced over at the Italy brothers dressed in their country's military uniform, and immediately felt a little out of place in my jeans and t-shirt

I hadn't traveled since Dad died, and it brought back bittersweet memories.

Seeming to somehow read my mind, Feliciano asked "So, where is your 'Papa?'" He put air-quotes around the word and I looked at him with poorly concealed confusion. "We don't often have actual biological parents," he elaborated. "We're normally adopted and other countries are parent and sibling figures in our life. Most countries, like Japan and America, are found in the forest or somewhere by another country. That country generally becomes the parent or sibling figure. In rare cases, we do have-a biological family. Romano and I are biologically related because we are different parts of the same country and Seborga because he's inside me, but America and England only think of each other as brothers, even though they're not actually related."

"What about your grandpa?" I asked, intrigued.

He thought for a bit. "He's biological. His capital was Roma, as is mine."

"Who's your Papa?"

"I was adopted, like some other countries, by a human and later found out I was North Italy when Nonno came and got me. I don't know who my Papa is, if I actually have one," I opened my mouth to ask how he could be biologically related to anybody without a dad, but he saw the question coming. "I think it all has to do with placement. It makes sense when you get used to it," I was forced to be content with that answer because he said something else that closed discussion. "You never answered my question."

I pretended to not know what he was talking about. "What question?"

"What happened to your Papa?"

"...he died..."

"Oh...do you want to talk about it?" he said quietly. "I find that talking and crying with someone else usually helps."

"Not really...maybe some other time..."

"Okay. I'm always here."

"Thanks," I smiled and felt tears come to my eyes. I didn't deserve such a good friend.

The moment was ruined when Romano, sleeping through the entire ride so far, fell on top of me, snoring. I sighed and tried to gently push his limp form back into a seat, hearing Veneziano silently die from laughter.

I watched the scenery and movies most of the trip, unable to sleep because of my excitement. I looked out the window when told we were only ten minutes away and saw the skyline of the Big Apple. It was huge! The buildings towered above the ground and I seemed to tear at the sky. I shook Seborga, who was lying on my lap, and South Italy, who had his head on my shoulder, and told them we were almost there.

When we got to the hotel, Feliciano suddenly ran towards an Asian man wearing a white uniform and hugged him tightly. I ran after to stop him, knowing that most strangers liked their personal space, but when I got there, the man was already scolding my friend. Italy ignored him in introduced me.

"(first name), this is Japan," he said, obviously ecstatic. "He was part of the main Axis Powers along with Germany and I. Japan, this is (first name). I miei fratelli and I think she's a country, but we don't know which one yet."

I bowed, knowing it was customary for the Japanese, and said one of the very few words I knew in his language: "Konnichiwa."

He greeted me back in the same way, seemingly pleased that _I_ at least knew a little bit about manners in the country he represented. "It's nice to meet you, (first name)-san. I look forward to possibly working with you. And please, call me Kiku in public, regular humans must not know about us," he smiled and I smiled back, then he turned to North Italy. "Ludwig-san and Gilbert-san are also arriving today. They should be here in a few minutes, then we can get some dinner."

Feli lit up. "Germania is coming today?" Kiku nodded.

We went up to our rooms and got unpacked, then went back down to the lobby to sit and wait for the other two coming. Without warning, Feliciano shot up tackled the poor, unexpecting man I assumed to be Germany. He, too, had a military uniform on and slicked back, blonde hair. He peeled his ally off of him and started yelling and Feli saluted him. An albino man, in a slightly rumpled suit, came up behind them with luggage and started laughing - or at least that's what I thought he was doing. It sounded like no other laugh I'd heard before, so I wasn't a hundred percent sure. Once they were done, Feli grabbed the blonds hand and dragged him over, the albino following.

"Lutz, Gil, this is (first name)," the happy Italian gestured to each of the men as he said their names. "We think she's a country, too."

"Guten Tag," the blonde, Ludwig, shook my hand. "I'm Ludwig and I represent Germany. the other one mein older Bruder, Gilbert, who represents Prussia."

"Kesese," the albino laughed his weird laugh again, red eyes sparkling. "You mean the _Awesome_ Prussia, Bruder!"

Germany sighed and face-palmed. "Ja, ja, whatever."

"Hallo. Nett sie kennen zu lernen. Wie geht es dir?" I smiled at everybody's astonished faces and shrugged. "I just kind of picked up on the language. Don't ask how. Anyways, should we get going? I starved!"

"Hai," said Japan.

We all piled on a bus and headed towards EAT, an apparently favorite restaurant recommended by America. Heads turned wherever we went, assumingly because of the strange assortment of accents, attitudes, and military uniforms.

"So, you're his _older_ brother?" I asked Prussia. "Ludwig looks older than you."

"Ja. After all, I'm Prussia, which came before Germany," he answered. He didn't seem to care that his younger brother had a lot more muscles, height, maturity, and everything else the older brother usually has.

"But isn't Prussia not a country anymore?"

He flinched before answering, his usual cocky smile less sure. "Ja, well, I was too awesome to disappear completely!"

"Okay..." I didn't really understand how that made sense, but I didn't ask. I looked at Ludwig and started laughing. "How do you deal with him?" he smiled and shrugged, Gilbert protesting.

We all talked like this for a while, but I started to feel my eyelids getting, so we headed back to the hotel. The bath as incredibly relaxing and I barely made it to the bed before I fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I awoke the next morning to Italy Veneziano lying in the queen-sized bed with me. I blushed, despite this being at the normal occurrence, and smiled at his peaceful, sleeping face. I carefully climbed out of the low bed as to not wake him and walked out to the balcony. The view was stunning. The city stretched on for miles in every direction, little spots of green marking where there were parks, and it finally ended colliding with the blue-green of the Atlantic Ocean – I could even see the Statue of Liberty through the high-rise buildings.

I was fully immersed in etching every detail of the scene into my brain and squeaked when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind. I was about to turn around and punch the mystery person in the gut, but froze when they put their chin on my shoulder and breathed directly into my ear.

"Buongiorno principessa..." a voice whispered. I immediately relaxed and felt my face grow into a smile.

"Good morning, Feli..."

We stood there for a moment, taking it all in. He was warm. He smelt nice. I found myself wishing it would never end. But he eventually let go and I turned around to face him.

He was grinning that huge, infectious grin and I found myself grinning, too. That seemed to happen a lot around him. "There's a World-a Meeting today. You don't-a need to come, but you can-a meet some of the other countries!"

"Sure," I agreed.

"Great! We're-a leaving after breakfast-a," he said and bounced back into the room. I followed, shaking my head at his excitement.

"That was really yummy," I patted my stomach as Germany, Japan, Romano, Veneziano, and I drove through New York to the place for the World Summit this year. We left Seborga and Prussia to wander around, since neither of them were recognized countries. We stopped in front of a large and simple, yet grand, building that that people, mostly men in suits, were filing into. We went in and quietly walked to a large meeting room. The other countries with me sat down at their designated seats while I awkwardly stood by the door. North Italy noticed dragged an extra chair from the edge of the room and put it in between him and South. I was extremely glad I had packed a nice dress so I wouldn't feel any more out of place than I already did, what with the other representatives filing in, as well as the other ones already there, looking at me with confusion.

Once all of the seats were filled, Germany stood up from his place at the head of the table. "Alright, we all know how this goes. America is going to put out some idiotic thought, England will disagree with him, und France with both of them, leading into a fight that escalates und eventually I'll end up having to calm you all back down, so I'll just say this now: We'll each have eight minutes to talk, no side-deals, and you will raise your hand when you wish to speak. Got it?" Everybody nodded. "Gut. Now, who wants to go first?"

Veneziano's hand immediately shot into the air and it seemed as though he would die if he wasn't called on. Luckily, Germany pointed towards his ally as permission to speak. He stood and everybody around the table, except those I already knew, started murmuring and giggling, but when he actually started talking, their eyes grew, obviously expecting something different. "Buongiorno, everyone! I have someone I want- to introduce you to!" he exclaimed happily and motioned for me to stand up. "This is (full name). We think she's a country, but we don't know which one. She is about eighteen years old right now, if that helps." everybody present looked at each other expectantly, but it was man with a polar bear cub in his grasp who answered our question. He had been thus far silent and those near him jumped a bit, as if they hadn't seen him before.

"I'm sorry, ummm..." Germany squinted at the name tag sitting in front of the country. "Canada...but would you repeat that up here with the microphone?"

Canada, as Germany called him, obliged and came up to the front, though I still strained to hear him, even with the microphone up on full volume. "I said that there's New Prussia in Ontario, but it doesn't exist anymore. It only did for 3 years - 2007 until 2010."

I stood. "But then, how would I still be alive if my country died?"

"Well, your country's state doesn't determine yours all of the time. The economy and such does, but whether or not it still exists does not. Prussia is a perfect example. You're still immortal in the sense of age, but you can die any other way normal humans do," Italy explained seriously. "Most don't see a reason to live anymore. You live on past all human friends and, as you can see, we don't really get along with each other enough to live only for other countries. We don't particularly like it while we actually are a country, and the only thing that keeps us going is our people - plus the fact that we can't die even if we wanted to - but when they're gone..." he looked down. "We normally...we normally commit suicide..." All of the countries around the big table became incredibly silent, battling between surprise of Feliciano being so serious, and sadness at the truth in the words. I now saw them all in a new light. They had all seemed so rambunctious and selfish before, but really all they cared about were their people.

"My nonno, the great Roman Empire, actually handed himself over to his once best friend, Germania, when the Germanic tribes took over the last of him." I felt Romano tense up next to me and looked over to see his jaw clenched and head down to hide his feelings, compared to Veneziano, whose face was completely devoid of emotion. He just wore a blank stare as if he was a robot. It was eerie. "He asked to be executed at the hands of his enemies so he could die an honorable death, instead of seeming weak and directly killing himself."

After a while of an uncomfortable silence, I decided to change the subject. "So then you think I'm a dead country?" I asked. Those around the table looked at me gratefully.

"It's extremely likely," said blonde man with bushy eyebrows. He had a British accent and the flag belonging to the UK was sitting in front of him, so I assumed him to be the personification England. "It was a micro-nation, if I remember correctly, and we have all major countries present or otherwise discovered," he hesitated. "I hate to suggest this, but...why don't we ask Sealand if he knows any representatives of New Prussia, or any missing micro-personifications."

"Sealand?" I inquired. "Where's that?"

"It's a bit off the Southeast coast of England!" laughed a man with the American flag in front of him. He had sandy brown hair with a strange cowlick and wore glasses and a huge, toothy grin. "Never thought _you'd_ ask _him_ for help, bro!" The Brit glared at America.

"I don't want to leave this poor lady wondering which nation she represents, you bloody wanker! After all, I _am_ a gentleman - unlike you and Frog over there!" he growled and thrust his thumb towards a man with long, wavy, blonde hair and a scruffy beard.

"Ohonhonhonhon~! You may claim to be a gentleman, but you'll never have the charm or beauty that I have~!" laughed the man called "Frog". France, judging by his accent and flag displayed proudly in front of him.

England open his mouth to angrily reply, but Germany cleared his throat very non-discreetly to make them realize that they were now off task, so bushy-brows instead settled for grumbling very ungentlemanly words under his breath, then looked towards me. "I'll contact him after the meeting is over and tell him you'll meet him at the airport." I nodded.

The world summit continued on, several arguments breaking out, all of them ending only when Germany raised his voice. Not much seem to be accomplished other than me being closer to finding out which country I represented. It lasted for about five hours before we were all dismissed and reminded that school started the next day. Many countries came up and introduced their human and country names to me. I stayed close to North Italy the whole time, feeling comforted by his calm, yet happy personality among the throng of states.

When we finally escaped, Feli and I sat on a nearby bench to wait for the host country to pick us up with his car. I kept glancing sideways to see him looking off into the distance forlornly. I'd finally had enough and reached over to hold him close, stroking the back of his head. At first he just sat there limply, but then he slowly raised his own arms and put them around me. I felt him shake and my shirt grow damp as he started quietly sobbing. "Shhh..." I cooed as a mother would to her child. "It's okay...you're okay..." he pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"Grazie, (f/n)," he said with a watery smile. "I needed that."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hiii~!" I looked around and saw a boy in a sailor suit that looked and sounded like a younger version of England running towards Seborga and me. The others had decided to stay back at Japan's place since, they'd "never known him very well." Seborga told me it's actually because they don't recognize him as a country. Only his fellow micro-nations did - and not even all of them.

Seborga waved and shouted back. "Ciao, Peter!" he laughed and tightly hugged the small nation.

"So, this is (f/n)?" the blonde look squinted up at me. "She certainly looks like a micro-nation..."

I raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah? What exactly does micro-nation look like?"

"All countries look like a regular person, yet at the same time, they look too perfectly sculpted according to the stereotypes of their country to be real. That's part of how you tell if somebody's a nation," he said matter-of-factly. "Micro-nations are the same, if they have stereotypes, but are normally personified as younger - still a child or in their teenage years rather than in their twenties or thirties. Plus, they aren't normally sure of their actions and are the ones striving to prove themselves," he swelled with pride. "I should know. I know all there is to know about micro-nations. I studied!"

"Well, then, Mr. Smarty Pants," I giggled. "Do you know which micro-nation I am?"

He looked at me for a few minutes, walking all around me as if I were a legendary artifact and he wanted to make sure I was the real deal, then stopped in front of me. "Well, since they aren't typically stereotypes for micronations, I can't base it off of those like you can for the big countries. I have to base it off of how close you act to the different nations to determine your relative location to them," he paused and leaned in on me. I wanted to step back from his closeness, but stood my ground -he was just a child, after all. "You appear to feel small and shy deep on the inside, but you've lived a hard life, making you force yourself to be happy and strong as an emotional barrier." I looked at him while he continued, wondering how he discovered such a complex trait from looking at me for a short time. "You're being shy and small possibly places you in Canada, although having some strength to actually stand up for yourself, talk to others, and live on despite your past obviously makes you a different country. Now that I think about it, you actually have the slightest Canadian accent - probably a habit that you never got out of, even though you grew up around people from (c/n). Anyways, this also makes what you look like irrelevant, since Canada is rather diverse in race. He pulled out a notebook and flipped through it. "This is a check list of all micro-nations, both recognized and unrecognized, fallen and living. The only one in Canada that fits is New Prussia. It survived from 2007 to 2010, in Ontario. I would place you as that micro-nation. It fits your age, and you are related to Canada and probably Prussia, which would explain your shy, yet outgoing personality and your accent."

"It would also explain how I picked up on German so easily without being taught much and why my hair is starting to turn lighter so early on," I said after a moment of thought. "Thank you Sealand," I smiled and hugged him when I, in fact, wanted to go to the bathroom and cry. My country is dead before I even know it exists... I suddenly grew very angry with myself and clenched my fists as the other two micros walked away. How useless can somebody be?! I looked down and brought my hands up to my face to wipe away the frustrated tears before running to catch up to them.

Seborga was laughing when I got up there. "I knew it would only take a minute! We haven't even left the airport yet!" Sealand grinned at his friend. "However, they are more than likely wondering where we are," we all headed back to the car, the two catching up over what happened since the last time they saw each other.

Us micros walked back in to intense conversation, and I saw them all stop as soon as Sealand walked in. I thought sadly about what Seborga had said earlier. My two friends didn't seem to like it much, either, but brushed it off – they were used to the larger countries' behavior. Mini-England broke the silence and announced that he'd "figured it out! And without a single problem." When he was met with only confused faces, he elaborated. "What country she is." He jerked his thumb back at me.

"Und…?" Prussia spoke up.

"She's New You!" Seborga pointed back at Prussia.

"You mean New Prussia?" Italy asked.

"Exactly!" Sealand looked quite pleased with himself.

"Kesesese! Dan bist du meine kleiner Scwester!" Prussia reached and put me in a headlock, ruffling my hair up.

"Germany's, too. And Canada, actually," I said. Japan, Germany, and the Italy brothers looked terribly confused and said "who?" simultaneously. "Canada," I repeated. "The country above America…?" Prussia shook his head at me. "Anyways - yes, Prussia, I'm your sister."

The dead country grinned and embraced me tightly and whispered in my ear "later."

It took a while, or so it seemed, to but I was able to get Prussia alone and away from everybody else. We stood on his room's balcony, the city lights all around us.

We were silent for some time, enjoying the view, but my curiosity grew impatient. "Okay," I said. "So _obviously_ you saw my confusion and _obviously_ you remember Canada. So why does nobody else? What gives?"

Prussia sighed. "I'm not entirely sure. It's likely because he does most of his work in the background, not needed constant attention from the media doesn't need recognition for his actions from the rest of us. He's always overshadowed by or mistaken for America, anyways – he's loud and obnoxious, always needing wanting validation. A self-proclaimed 'hero.'" He paused. "The only ones that see him for himself are you, the other micros, France, America, and myself. France because he raised him – mostly – and America and yourself because your related. The micros and myself, probably only because we're in a similar situation. We can sympathize, to some extent."

We lapsed back into silence, just staring at the cars passing below us. I eventually built up the courage to whisper the question I'd been asking myself since the meeting that day.

"Why did you stay?"

He didn't answer at first, and still didn't until I began to debate whether or not he'd heard me.

"West needed me."

I sat, taken aback, and then nodded, stood up. I took his hands into mine, pulling him up into a tight hug.

"I don't know why I just told you that." He tried laughing, but it just came out as a huff.

I patted his back. "I seem to have that effect on people recently, somehow. Now, come on. We have to get up early tomorrow."

"Oh, bella? World Academy W starts at nine tomorrow morning," I looked up at Feliciano undressing to opt for his pajamas, though they would surely be discarded halfway through the night. He preferred just his boxers.

"Okay," I said in acknowledgement. I felt my heart fluttering in my chest again as he climbed into be next to me. _Why am I always so happy around him?_ I thought. _And why do I feel so nervous at the same time? What_ is _this feeling?_ My mind whirled with the thoughts. _Could this be what love feels like...? No...I met him a month ago...and even if I did love him, why would he feel the same? I'm a dead micro-nation that doesn't have any special traits, physical or personality-wise..._

"Buonanotte, bella," he snuggled up under his blanket, closing his eyes.

"Buonanotte," I said, then thought of something, sitting up under the comforter. "Hey, Feli?"

"Yes, bella?" he opened his eyes again.

"Why do you always call me that?"

"Call you what?" a crease appeared on his forehead.

"Bella."

"Oh!" he laughed. "Because you're a pretty girl~!" It was my turn to furrow my brows. "It means beautiful in my language," he explained.

My face turned a shade of red that shouldn't be possible. "O-oh!" I stuttered. "Th-thank you!"

Veneziano looked me in the eye. I started fidgeting under his intense stare and swallowed the hard lump in my throat. "You _do_ know that you're the most beautiful ragazza I've ever seen, right?"

I looked down, face growing warmer by the second. "Th-thank you, but I wouldn't go that far – I mean, I'm sure there's lots of pretty tan girls in Italy….." I trailed off as sat up and started leaning forward, me leaning backwards until I fell onto my back. He put his hands on each side of my head, his legs the same down by my waist and bent down so his breath tickled my ear and whispered "You are…" before pushing up again to look at me the way nobody else had. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he heard it and before I could chicken out, I reached both of my hands up and around his neck and brought my lips to his.

The kiss started out slow and hesitant, both of us surprised by my actions, and myself terrified of what he would say when I stopped. After a couple of beautiful seconds, though, he got out of his stupefied state and kiss back as if the world was ending in that moment and there was nothing else he's rather do. We came to our senses and I could feel my lungs burning so I – reluctantly, I might add - pulled away to get the air needed for survival. He immediately pulled me into the tight hug only he could give.

"Be my girlfriend?" he asked timidly.

It might've been lightheadedness, or the ridiculousness of the past month, or the way he asked me that after I'd just finished harassing him into a kiss, but I giggled and pulled back to smile at him. "Of course, Feli. I don't think I would have done that just now if I didn't like you!"

He huffed. "I suppose you're right…"

"Of course I am." I grinned even wider. "Now, am I going to have to kiss you myself again, or are you going to do it this time?"

He grinned and we locked lips once more.

I felt truly happy for the first time in years.


End file.
